‘She wants that you are friend of Dr Morag. I told her yes.’

Grady nodded gravely. ‘Thank you.’

‘You can give her…injection,’ the old man said. ‘She knows a friend of Morag will not harm her.’

It went against everything Grady had ever been taught. To not X-ray…

He gave an injection of morphine and gently felt the fracture site. Then he held the child’s arms out, measuring reach. He carefully tested each finger, each part of the arm, searching for nerve damage, searching for any sign that the bone had splintered.

It seemed OK. It was probably a greenstick fracture, but not to take an X-ray…

He had no choice.

He splinted the arm still and carefully strapped the arm to keep it immobile.

A cast would be better, but he couldn’t apply plaster here. Besides, the arm was badly scratched and he was acutely aware of Morag’s warning about infection. If there was infection under a cast and there weren’t constant checks, she could well lose the arm.

Enough. He fashioned a sling and finally dared a smile at the little girl.

‘You’re very brave.’

The old man translated and the little girl’s face broke into a grin. And what a grin! It was like the sun had suddenly come out.

‘Than’ you,’ she whispered and Grady felt his gut give a solid wrench-a wrench he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling.

‘You’re welcome.’ He smiled at her, and then looked up to find his interpreter was also smiling. ‘She must keep this on for six weeks. I’ll come and check it.’

‘Six weeks?’ the old man repeated, and Grady nodded.

‘She will keep it with care. But…Morag will check it. Not you.’

Right. Of course. This was Morag’s place.

Not his.

After that he saw an ankle that he hoped-where was the X-ray?-was just sprained. Then there were two nasty cuts that needed careful cleaning and debridement. Amazingly, he was able to convince the children to accept tetanus shots and an initial shot of antibiotics. They’d need a ten-day course, but he left it to Morag to explain about the medication. Hell, if he explained it wrong…

He didn’t stitch either of the cuts. He pulled them together with steri-strips as best he could, and told his interpreter that the strips could come off after a week. He hoped like hell that Morag would approve.

‘How’s it going?’ She was suddenly behind him and he almost jumped. She was like a cat, moving among her own with a sureness that had him disconcerted.

‘Fine,’ he managed. ‘Can you explain a course of antibiotics for these kids?’

‘I can do that. One of the women’s very good at dispensing medication. Nargal will explain it for me.’

‘Nargal can’t do it himself?’

‘The tablets are food. That’s women’s work. Asking Nargal to make sure a child has a tablet twice a day would de-mean him.’

‘I see.’ He adjusted the dressing and smiled a farewell to the little boy, and looked uncertainly at Morag. He felt all of about six, asking, ‘Please miss, have I done OK?’

‘I had to use dressings,’ he confessed.

‘Sure you did,’ she said, and then grinned. ‘Heck, you look like I’m about to slap you.’

‘You’re not?’

‘Argrel-the little boy with the first cut you treated-came to show his mother his bandage while I was with the women. He said the big doctor-I guess that’s you-said he couldn’t get it wet for three days. He explained to his mother that he wasn’t allowed to get it dirty and in three days he could take the dressing off and he’d have a wonderful man scar.’ Her smile widened. ‘You certainly know the way to a small boy’s heart.’

‘Promising him scars.’

‘Out here they’re better than a jelly bean.’

They were smiling at each other-like fools. Which was really stupid.

‘What next?’ he asked.

‘I’m finished.’

‘Finished?’ He frowned. ‘Two lacerations, a broken arm and a sprained ankle?’

‘I’ve strapped two fractures.’

‘Nothing else?’

She hesitated. ‘They did lose some of their people. There’s nothing we can do there.’

‘But there’s no serious injuries.’

‘Once again, not…not that we can do anything about.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Two of the old people are badly injured,’ she told him. ‘One of the elderly men has a compressed skull fracture. He’s deeply unconscious and his breathing’s starting to weaken already. And there’s an old woman with a fractured hip.’

He stared. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘Nothing,’ she said simply. She was collecting gear and tossing it into the back of the truck. Then she relented. ‘No. I have been allowed to do something. I’ve left enough painkillers so Zai will drift toward death in peace.’

‘For a broken hip?’ he asked incredulously. ‘We can take her back. Set it. And the compressed fracture-we could alleviate pressure-’

‘You know as well as I do that if there’s been pressure on the brain for twenty-four hours, the damage will be irreversible. And Zai…yeah, you’re right, we could operate. But that means a trip to Sydney. She’d be in hospital for weeks, facing rehabilitation. She can’t do that.’

‘How fragile is she?’

‘Not very.’

‘Then why can’t she do it?’

‘She’d die,’ Morag said simply. ‘You put Zai in a Western hospital ward and she’d die of shock and terror.’

‘So she’ll die anyway?’

‘Yes,’ she said flatly. Dully. ‘Of course she will. She knows that. But at least she’ll die out here, surrounded by her people and the way of life that’s been hers for ever. It’s the way she wants it, Grady, and I’m not about to argue.’

‘You can’t just-’

But he wasn’t allowed to continue. ‘Yes, I can,’ she snapped. ‘Of course I can. These people have a way of life that I respect, and that way of life has nothing to do with the customs we hold dear. If this island’s deemed uninhabitable…’

‘They’ll be resettled. Maybe they’d be better off on the mainland.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Why not? At least they’d have medical facilities.’

‘They have medical facilities now,’ she said in a savage undertone that was laced with pain. It hadn’t been easy, he guessed. To walk away from a patient she could have helped. ‘They have me. I’ve worked so hard to get their trust, and I’m succeeding. OK, it’s a tiny bit at a time, but I’m allowed to help the children. They call me now if a mother gets into major trouble during childbirth, and that’s a huge concession. Even though I’ve no specific obstetric training, I can often help. And I’m certainly better than nothing.’

She gazed up at him, her eyes troubled, trying to make him see. ‘They can’t be isolated from our world for ever,’ she admitted. ‘But they can be assimilated ever so carefully, ever so gently, so they can preserve the values and traditions they value while taking the best of ours.’

‘But to leave her to die… Morag, surely you don’t believe-’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Leave me be!’ He was suddenly aware that there were tears welling up in her eyes and she swiped them away with an angry gasp. ‘Do you think I like not being allowed to treat Zai? Don’t you think I mind that an old lady I’ve known and respected since my father brought me out here twenty years ago is dying out there among the palms? And do you think I haven’t thought these issues through again and again? Of course I have. But you…you’re going to hold a public meeting in the next few days. I know you are. Marcus told me that’s what the plan is. Give us a day or so to appreciate how deeply we’re in trouble, and then you and the rest of the bureaucrats you work with are going to say close down that island, take these people to the mainland-they’ll be better off. As if you know anything at all…’

She broke off. She gave an angry sniff and then another, but as he made a move to touch her she backed away as if his touch would burn.

‘Don’t touch me. We have to get back to town.’

‘Morag-’

‘Just…leave it. I’ve just said goodbye to two people I love. Leave me alone to get over it. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, Grady Reece. You fly to the rescue, you do your dramatic thing and then you leave everyone else to pick up the pieces.’

‘Morag…’

She gulped. ‘I’m…I’m sorry,’ she managed. ‘That’s not fair. You’ve been…you’ve been an enormous help and I’m incredibly grateful. But can you imagine what sort of lives these people will lead if they’re transplanted to the mainland? Can you?’ She shook her head. ‘No. I’m sorry. You can’t have thought… And why would you? This isn’t your business, Grady. Just leave me be to come to terms with it.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

THEY drove back to the village in unbroken silence. There were eggshells everywhere, Grady thought ruefully, and he wasn’t sure where to tread. Where to go to from here?

Back to Sydney? Of course. In a couple of days. When the disaster was over.

Or when the disaster was just beginning…

He couldn’t afford to think like that, he told himself. Could he?

In the meantime, silence seemed the only option.

They arrived back at the field hospital just as Lucy was being prepared for the helicopter flight to the mainland. Jaqui had been looking after her, and as Morag appeared in the hospital entrance, Jaqui looked up in relief.

‘Lucy was hoping you’d be back before she left.’

‘I’ve been out at the settlement,’ Morag told the teenager.

‘Are there more deaths out there?’ Lucy whispered, and Morag took her hand and squeezed. Grady stood back with Jaqui, watching in still more silence. He was starting to feel impotent. There was nothing he could do. Nothing!

‘There are,’ Morag told her.

‘My dad’ll hate it.’ Lucy hesitated. ‘Nargal?’

‘Nargal’s fine.’ She smiled, and turned to include Jaqui and Grady. ‘Nargal shows Lucy’s father the best place to fish. Lucy’s dad found Nargal after his canoe was upended in a storm twenty years ago. Peter spent the night out searching when everyone else had given up. By the time he found him, Nargal had almost reached the end-he was far gone with hypothermia. But Peter brought him back and Nargal’s been good to him ever since.’ She hesitated and then turned back to Lucy. ‘Nargal says his men are out looking for Hamish.’